


Until He Burns

by Leshy



Series: Awakenings [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angts, F/F, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, M/M, Magical Realism, Michael is the Sun, Pining, Temporary Character Death, Trans Jeremy Heere, background pinkberry cus the lesbians are unstoppable, jeremy is icarus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 13:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11990868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leshy/pseuds/Leshy
Summary: Michael is the sun.Michael is the sun, and people keep trying to tell Jeremy that he is the moon.It fits, they say.It’s perfect, they say.Look at the two of you, warm and cold, red and blue, radiating and shining, orbiting around each other in perfect harmony, they say.Michael is inclined to believe them.It makes sense, he says.I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my moon, he says.If I was going to spend the rest of my life chasing someone across the sky, I’d want it to be you, he says.But Jeremy knows who he is.He has always known who he is.Jeremy isn’t the moon.He is not on the same plane as Michael.There is nothing celestial about him, unlike Michael.No.Jeremy is Icarus, like he has always been.Like he will continue to be.He will continue to follow Michael where he goes.Will reach for him every chance he gets.Will come closer and closer and closer, until there isn’t any space left between them.Until he burns.--It only takes a week for Jeremys world to be flipped upside down.





	Until He Burns

**Author's Note:**

> hey guysssssssss  
> have this, whatever it is  
> also yea hi i love the celestial au as much as the next person and i hope u can all forgive me for this  
> i love making jermey suffer cus i'm evil i guess  
> i hope you like it!!
> 
> 'oh these gay idiots' -my wonderful friend who keeps reading my fic and encouraging me to keep writing she's the best 12/10 Good Friend™

He’s falling. That’s not the weird part of the dream, because he's had this dream before. He’s had it many times before. No the weird thing is that he’s not waking up. The thing about dreams where you’re falling is that as soon as that feeling takes hold of you, you wake up. You feel yourself fall and hit the matters even though you never even moved in the first place, and you wake up. Jeremy keeps falling. It feels so real. There’s something fluttering around him, feathers. He looks up, and sees the vast expanse of the clear blue sky stretch out before him, the clouds reaching out to the horizon no matter which way he looks. It’s so bright, and the wind feels so real as it whips at his hair and clothes. He looks up.  
A bright light blinds him momentarily, and distantly he thinks that it must be the sun. It feels like the sun, the rays warming his face, wrapping around him like a blanket, almost like an embrace. Like it’s trying to slow his fall. Jeremy realizes he’s still falling, but nothing is really moving closer or getting further away, he’s just…falling in the middle of the sky. The light takes shape in front of him, and he tries to look, but it’s so so bright. A hand reaches for him, he can’t see it as much as feel it, but when he grabs it something springs to life. A warmth blooming in his chest from the familiarity. The hand is dry and soft, warm. Strong and secure grip on his own hand.  
‘’Michael?’’ he says into the vast nothingness of the dreamscape, and for a second he swears the blinding light is smiling at him, and then it becomes too much. It’s bright bright bright and his eyes are watering and suddenly the clouds below are coming closer at an alarming rate, and the light is still there but it’s so strong, it doesn’t feel comforting anymore, the heat is like claws scraping at his arms and legs and torso and face and he wants to scream but he can’t because as soon as he opens his mouth the air is dragged out and he can’t make a single sound and he’s…  
Falling.  
The feeling of claws worsen, get more intense and it’s like they’re digging into his arms as he tries to shield his face. It feels like they’re trying to peel his skin off and he feels tears streak across his face at odd angles as he keeps falling and then he can’t breathe and he can’t see because everything is just black and grey. Specks of orange. Blazing.  
Burning.  
He wakes up as he hits the layer of clouds, suddenly jolting awake as if electrocuted. He lies there, feels the sweat and tears on his face, the burning sensation of smoke in his lungs.  
The taste of ash in his mouth.  
When he closes his eyes all he sees is fire.  
He gets up.

Your Awakening can come in many different forms. Some people are born into this world knowing who or what they are. Like Jenna had been born, singing songs of waves and following the rhythm of the tide no matter how far away from sea she was. Some people have a moment or a thing or a person that will jumpstart their Awakening, and then they know, like Jake had fallen out of a tree, his form dissipating into a gale of wind before reforming safely on the ground. Some people have prophetic dreams. And Jeremy always believed that those were one of the easy options. Rich had to set himself on fire to trigger his powers as a fire elemental. Prophetic dream? Piece of cake. That’s not the case. His dream was disorienting, confusing. It had hurt. Not even the cold shower he took could get rid of the sensation of red hot claws dragging across his skin. It had made it worse actually. To the point Jeremy had almost convinced himself he must have some sort of open wound he just couldn’t see. He contemplates it being a curse, but can’t remember having pissed off a witch, wizard, or otherwise curse inducing entities in the last week or so. He looks at himself in the mirror. His reflection stares back. Acne and gap tooth and freckles and wet floppy hair. He makes a face and does his best to avoid eye contact with himself.  
He’s pretty sure Michael had something to do with his Awakening, but he’s not sure why it took twelve years to act out.  
Jeremy gets dressed in a purple floral shirt, slipping on his favorite deep blue cardigan. The soft material feels nice on his sore arms, and then he goes downstairs to eat breakfast and wait for Michael to pick him up. His head gets stuck on Michael once again as he eats his cereal. He’s sure he saw Michael. The buzzing of his phone distracts him and he rushes to finish the last few bites before grabbing his phone and his backpack and heading for the door. He struggles to get his shoes on and a familiar car horn blares from the the road outside. He laughs to himself, pushing his heel down properly in his converse before throwing the door open. Michaels busted up PT Cruiser greets him, and he smiles before turning around to lock the door. He almost trips over his untied shoelaces as he rounds the car. His face reddens as he sees Michaels laughing face trough the window, catching the last notes of it as he opens the door, he fakes throwing his backpack in Michaels face.  
‘’Good morning to you too.’’ Michael says, grinning. He’s radiating warmth and comfort and Jeremy slips into the seat, welcoming it happily.  
‘’The only good thing about Monday morning is you.’’ Jeremy replies, honestly.  
‘’Smooth talker. I’m not buying you lunch though.’’ Michael smirks. Jeremy grins innocently. And then they’re off.  
It’s not until they’re parting ways for the morning that it happens. Michael holds out a fist for their customary ‘good luck surviving this hell hole today’ fist bump. Jeremy knocks his knuckles against Michaels, and for a split seconds he feels…something. Warmth. But like it’s just edging the line of being too warm for comfort. Like his knuckles might split open. It’s gone as soon as Michaels hand falls away from his, and he figures it must be some left over psychic energy from the dream. That has to be it, right? Like any teenager trying to navigate life, he pretends everything is fine and goes about his day as normally as he can. And eventually he forgets about it. As he mindlessly makes his way trough yet another day of high school the dream falls to the back of his mind, taking a backseat as autopilot takes over. 

Every time Michael touches him, he feels warmth. It’s always been like that, but it was never that noticeable. An arm slung around his shoulders over a prolonged period of time leaves him comfortable and drowsy, like he’s been dosing in the sun on a lazy afternoon. Today, as they hang out before going home, Michaels arm around his shoulders start off the same, but quickly becomes too much. It’s like someone is slowly cooking his shoulders, as if a glowing red iron beam has been draped around him, like the sun is burning him only a hundred times worse. He tries not to let on. Doesn’t wince when a shift of their position brings Michaels arm into contact with a new patch of skin. Ignores the feeling of his skin cracking and peeling and burning. He figures it’s the dream, it has to be leftovers from the dream. It’s just a feeling. It’ll go away. Michael drops him off and drives home, Jeremy having told him he needed some space. Michael, wonderful perfect best-est friend in the world Michael, just nodded with that understanding look on his face. Jeremy doesn’t like lying to his friends, but technically it’s not a lie. He does need space, but not for the normal ‘the world is just a little too much right now’ space. He just needs a breather, so he can let the remnants of this freaky dream wear off, so he can get his cloudy head and racing heart back under control. He closes the front door softly, toeing off his shoes and dragging himself up to his room. His backpack is held in one hand, and his sore shoulders are aching. Even the t-shirt and cardigan feel like too much, and he can’t wait to rid himself of them. As soon as his bedroom door is shut safely behind him, he flings his backpack down by his desk, and then he drapes the cardigan and t-shirt over the back of the desk chair in quick succession. He rubs his hand experimentally over one shoulder, and winces at the contact. Then his hand hits an uneven patch of skin and he freezes. He runs the tip of his finger along the divot he can feel. Feels the heat radiating off of his own skin. He turns to the mirror.  
His shoulders are black as coal, as if someone rubbed soot on them, or like they tried to set fire to him. In the middle of the line stretching from one shoulder to the other, across the back of his neck, there are cracks. Like dried clay. The edges are light grey, and for a second Jeremy is scared he’ll crumble away into nothing. To dust. He touches it lightly again, almost expecting to see his own skin flaking off, but nothing happens. It just stings a little. He catches his own eye in the mirror and stops.  
The sun.  
Reaching. Falling. Burning.  
Michael.  
He feels torn between laughing and crying.  
He’s know for a little while now, about a month or so maybe, that he’s deeply hopelessly in love with his best friend.  
But see, everyone had told him when he finally had his Awakening, he’d be the moon. It was obvious, right? Because Michael is the sun. And they’re not just Michael and Jeremy. They’re Michael-And-Jeremy. They’re a package deal, a duo, inseparable. So if Michael was the sun, he’d have to be the moon. So obvious.  
He’d always doubted that. He’d always thought, to himself, that it was bullshit. One look at Michael and you’d know they weren't the same. Michael is so much more, so different, so…other worldly in all the best and unreachable ways. Jeremy is just Jeremy. Stupid, ordinary, clumsy, human Jeremy. There’s nothing celestial about him. He’d said it out loud exactly once. And only once. And Michael had shut him down, had said that one look into Jeremys eyes and he knew. Jeremys eyes were so blue and so vast, they looked like they could hold every star in the sky, every star in the universe, so he had to be the moon. Michael had held him by the shoulders, warmth leaking trough from his palms, eyes radiant and warm and burning, and there had been such conviction in his voice. Unshakable confidence. Jeremy had smiled, but deep down he still didn’t really believe.  
Michael had tugged him close one night, a couple of years later, and whispered to him in the dull grey light of an autumn morning, that he was glad it was Jeremy. That if he was going to be stuck with someone for the rest of his life, he wanted it to be Jeremy. It had broken his heart, looking at a sleep soft Michael baring his heart, and knowing he would disappoint him in the end. Just because he couldn’t be what Michael wanted him to be. But he’d played along, he’d kept his mouth shut, and now here he is. He is no moon. He feels his heart in his chest beat an ancient rhythm, feels it burn to cinders.  
He is Icarus. Of course he’s Icarus.  
He wants to cry and laugh and break and sing and…he settles for staring at himself. He thinks he can envision it, the flames, licking at his form and consuming him from the inside. The memory of smoke and ash in his mouth is vivid, and he almost chokes on it. He runs a finger along one of the two matching scars on his chest, a nervous and self conscious habit that’s developed since they healed.  
On one hand, he’s happy. He’s so happy he could dance and sing and celebrate. He’s not the moon. He’s Icarus. His love for Michael is supposed to be like this. He was never meant to love Michael like a brother, like something-deeper-but-still-brother. He’s supposed to love Michael like a drowning man. Like a dying man. Like a burning man.  
On the other hand he’s terrified. Because he loves Michael like a drowning dying burning man and Michael wants him to be the moon. The deeper-bond-than-brothers kind of love that the moon and the sun share. He can’t do that. He can’t be that. He feels like he’s failed at being a best friend, because of something that’s completely out of his hands. But his mind whispers that no, it’s still your fault, somehow. And he’s inclined to believe it.

When he goes to bed that night he’s still thinking about Michael, about the arm shaped mark across his shoulders that’s been slowly, oh so slowly, fading as the hours ticked by. It’s almost half the size it was, and if it continues at this pace it’ll be gone by morning. He hopes. Oh he hopes so. He closes his eyes.  
When he opens them he’s back in that vast vast vast sky. But this time when he looks up, he sees Michael, clear as day. It’s Michael. Red hoodie and headphones and everything. Then Michael turns, and starts walking across nothing, towards the endless horizon. Towards the endless blue. Away from Jeremy. Something in his chest tugs. Hard. He tries to follow. He struggles against wind and gravity and claws made of fire and pain and glowing embers. He fights against something in him tugging him down beneath the layer of clouds, to the place where he distantly knows he belongs, but where he cannot return. Not now. Not when he’s so close. Every time he feels like he’s getting closer, every time he can almost feel the soft fabric of that red red red hoodie, Michael slips just out of reach. Maddeningly frustratingly closer and closer, further and further. Then he falls.

Tuesday morning is very similar to Monday morning. Wake up to sweat and tears and fire coursing trough his body. The marks are gone. Take a shower, get dressed (the softest shirt he owns, an old washed out pac man shirt Michael gave him), eat breakfast, wait for Michael.  
Michael slings an arm around him, he doesn’t wince.  
‘’You look like shit dude. And you’re wearing the Comfort Shirt. What’s wrong?’’ he says with no preamble, like he always does.  
‘’I didn’t sleep all that well. Bad dream.’’ Jeremy says, resisting the newfound urge to shrug the arm off. It’s burning right trough the layers of clothes between them and Jeremy doesn’t understand and understands all too well all over again.  
‘’Wanna talk about it?’’ Michael asks, because he’s a great friend and Jeremy just doesn’t deserve him.  
‘’I don’t remember much,’’ he lies,  
‘’Just snippets, and waking up feeling terrible.’’ he makes a face. Michael makes a sympathetic face in response to his no doubt pathetic face. He removes his arm, and Jeremy feels guilty as the wave of relief washes over him.  
‘’I know that feeling.’’ Michael says sympathetically, finally starting the relatively short drive to school. They don’t speak much for most of the drive, let the radio wash over them, sit in comfortable silence and quiet. Trying to gear up for yet another hectic day of being a teenager.  
Michael hugs him when they part ways that morning. And usually he wouldn’t think anything of it. Usually this would be a welcome gesture. Usually this would fill him with warmth and make his stomach flutter, even before he knew exactly why. Today though. Today it makes him acutely aware of every point where they’re pressed up against each other. Today he wants it over as soon as possible, the burning not yet reaching unbearable levels, but getting gradually closer. Michael finally releases him, and Jeremy is overcome with the urge to tell him how much he means to him, how much Michael helps make his day to day life bearable just by being him.  
‘’You’re my favorite person.’’ he says simply, instead, because it’s easier, because it’s normal, because he can get away with that and still sort of convey his feelings.  
‘’And you’re mine, dude.’’ Michael says, smiling. He gives Jeremys shoulder a light punch before he disappears down the hallway, Jeremy watches him go.

Jeremy spends most of the day trying to avoid Michael touching him, without outright avoiding him. Which is difficult in and of itself. They’ve always been comfortable with each other, always been the type of friends where casual touches play an important role in their day to day lives. It’s one of the many ways they can wordlessly tell each other that they’re there, reassuring and comforting. Jeremy hates how his Awakening has tainted one of the aspects of their friendship he treasures the most. Hates how it has taken something nice and loving and kind, turned it into pain and suffering and burning. He thinks he’s doing a good job of keeping it under wraps. Yes, he’s finding reasons to shrug off Michaels arm earlier than normal, yes he’s careful to keep some space between them as they sit down ton lunch, yes he makes sure he doesn’t accidentally brush against Michael as they sit there, as they walk to class. He doesn’t initiate any contact himself either. That’s what ticks Michael off, in the end. Because Jeremy has always been one to seek out reassurance. Maybe not from just about anyone, but always from Michael. Always when he really needs it. And Michael can see it on him, like a shadow cast upon his face. He sees the uneasy sleep the past two days, sees something wreaking havoc inside his best friends head, and he knows Jeremy is keeping a lid on it to spare him, because that’s what he does. Michael won’t say he isn’t guilty of the same, but they’ve agreed to be better, agreed to seek help from one another, because they can always handle things better when it’s the two of them. Doesn’t Jeremy know that by now? Maybe he needs a reminder? Michael makes peace with himself that he’ll wait a few more days, give Jeremy time to sort out his own head, but if he ends up getting lost in that treacherous dark place, the one Michael knows lurks within him, he’ll help him. Like he always has. Like Jeremy has always done for him as well.

On their way out of the school building Michael sees the look on Jeremys face, and he wishes he could fix whatever has him looking so…tired. So worried and resigned. He tentatively reaches out a hand, brushes his fingers against Jermeys, where they peek out from his almost too long cardigan sleeves. Jeremy twitches his hand back, then looks at Michael as if he was miles away, and suddenly crash landed back into his own head. Michael gives him a Look. It’s the one asking if he’s okay, a pointedly raised eyebrow. Jeremy gives him one back, a sort of crooked smile. One that tries to say he’s fine, but fails completely. It tells Michael that he needs to wait, because Jeremy isn’t ready to talk about this yet, if ever. He does, however, take Michaels hand in his own. Michael doesn’t notice the slight grimace, the twitching of his other hand, doesn’t notice how Jeremy makes sure his sleeve is still mostly covering his hand. It’s a gamble, Jeremy knows, and Michael could see and he wouldn’t even know how to begin to explain, but…it’s okay. Michael is smiling at him and they’re almost at the car and it’s his right hand anyway. It’ll be fine. Michael lets go as he opens the car door, Jeremy walking around to the other side, tugging his sleeve over his right hand and getting in. He can feel sensation slowly creeping back into his numb hand, it’s pins and needles first, then sharp stabbing pain, and when he’s dropped off in front of his house, it’s a dull throbbing. He waves with his left hand as Michael drives off. Once he’s inside, in the safety of his own bedroom, he tugs back the sleeve to inspect the damage. His palm is dark as void, his fingertips glowing a soft orange, and there are lines like black smoke curling around the skin on his wrist. He looks at the single crack running across his palm, pokes it gently. It’s a little warm, but he can see it closing already. He sighs, collapses on the bed, feels like crying but doesn’t.  
‘’Things would be easier if I was the moon.’’ he says to the still air of his room, gentle rays of sunlight streaming trough the window, catching the dust he unsettles with his words. He stretches the marked hand up, watching the light fall over it.  
‘’If I loved him like he wanted me to, instead of…this.’’ The black is receding ever so slowly, his own pale skin taking back over. The crack glows faintly. He sighs deeply, arm lowering back down. The dust continues to dance, and Jeremy admires the shadows the tree outside casts on his wall.

Wednesday brings the same. Wake up sweaty, disoriented. He falls out of bed. Fire roars behind his eyes, he hears the wind in his ears, smoke curls at the back of his throat. It doesn’t go away until he’s splashed water on his face. He avoids his reflection. Michael texts him, saying he’s running late, and that if he wants to get to school on time he should get the bus. He does. This is how he finds himself wandering the school hallway alone that morning, how he runs into Brooke. She locks eyes with him from across the hall, and suddenly he knows she wants him to stop. He does. She strides towards him, eyes focused and steps sure. The students part around her as if they hardly notice her, and once she reaches him it’s as if the school falls away. Everything outside of their bubble is blurry, muffled, distant. He hardly notices.  
‘’I see you.’’ she says, voice light and smooth. Unhurried.  
‘’I had the dream night to Monday.’’ he confesses. There are no secrets to be kept from Brooke, sooner or later she will know.  
‘’You’re burning, like last time. Are you really going to do this to yourself all over again?’’ she asks, her eyes are impossibly old and wise, but her face is so young. It’s as if he’s looking at two different faces overlapping, two different versions of her glimpsing trough the cracks of reality.  
‘’Yes. What else can I do?’’ He feels like he knows already, that there isn’t anything else, and he knows she must know this too.  
‘’Are you happy with this?’’ she asks instead of answering, confirming his suspicions.  
‘’It means I’m by his side, and that’s where I’m meant to be, isn’t it? Destiny…or some shit.’’ he smiles with no humor, and she smiles ruefully back at him. She nods once.  
‘’Take care of yourself.’’ she says simply.  
‘’Any progress with Chloe?’’ he asks her, feeling like that’s what Awakening smalltalk calls for.  
‘’No, she is still Unawakened, but I sense her growing closer every day. It’s only a matter of time before Persephone returns to me again.’’ she smiles, dreamily. Jeremy remembers Brookes Awakening vividly. It had happened suddenly, like a lightning strike. She had grown old and young all at once, the sound of cawing crows and their flapping wings had filled the air, a black void had opened and swallowed her whole, like a wave crashing over a skerry, obscuring it from view before it seemingly rises from the dark waves once more. Brooke is much the same. One second she is swallowed by void, the next it recedes, and she is standing there, unharmed. She had looked the same, but felt different. Her aura had changed, and now it was common knowledge throughout the school who she was. Hades. Goddess of Death. He is silent, as he ponders for a moment.  
‘’Will you do me a favor?’’ he asks her, eventually.  
‘’If I’m capable.’’ she answers.  
‘’Watch over him? If anything happens?’’ his eyes are pleading, and she knows this request well. Has been asked similar things over lifetimes she can barely recall through others’ eyes.  
‘’If anything happens, you’re the one who should be watched over.’’ she reasons, but she knows it is futile, Jeremy may be Awakened but he is still very human. It’s so very human of him to ask her this, she wants to smile and cry at the same time. She knows human love well.  
‘’Maybe, but please? If only to put my mind at ease?’’ he reaches out a hand, carefully, lays it on her arm. He’s warm. Like embers. She nods once. He beams, and she sees the light in him, slipping trough the cracks in this in-between place she can call upon. For a second there is the sound of fluttering, and then the bell rings, their bubble shatters. They part ways, with a promise to meet up at lunch with their mutual friends.

He keeps making eye contact with Brooke from across the table, keep flicking his own gaze away, only to find it landing back on hers. Her eyes are deep and dark, full of life and an endless nebula of dying stars. Chloe sits next to her, smelling of spring and summer flowers. Her Awakening is like a garden blooming, happening little by little until the right time comes, then an explosion of color. For something like this, patience is key. She’s somewhat of an In-Betweener right now. Of the rest of their friends, Christine and Jeremy are the only ones left Unawakened. To their knowledge at least. Jeremy finds himself admiring his friends, in that moment, like he has countless times before.  
Rich burns bright with passion and loyalty, different to how Michael burns, but he blazes a fire trail across day to day life nonetheless. He’s energy and action and life, like a firecracker given human shape and a voice like echoing thunder when he truly wants to be heard. He can be loud, but sometimes he glows calm, like the dying embers of a campfire, keeping monsters at bay in the dark. He wears his scars like battle armor, with an attitude that says ‘I’ve survived worse than you can throw at me’, and people leave him alone. He’s kind. Life has been unkind to him, and it shows sometimes, but still, he’s kind.  
Jake is a windswept airhead and a storm in a person shaped container all at once. Not stupid in the slightest, but somewhat scatterbrained sometimes. His attention flits like a breeze playing with fallen leaves, but it always returns to the same places. He’s quick to a laugh, the best at making the air lighter, literally and figuratively. The quickest player on the football filed by far, within body and mind. He says that when he plays, when he runs, he is so focused. He sees everything, and finds time to react to it all. He can also shape the wind to play symphonies or fart noises, and you can guess which one he uses the most.  
Jenna is as vast and majestic as the sea she commands. Her attitude can come off as uncaring at first, but she is as deceptive as crystal clear water. Can seem so shallow but be so incredibly deep, once you take the opportunity to get to know her. She says it’s so people won’t bother her, they know it’s more, and they treasure the friendship she has given them. Her voice is as enchanting as the songs the sea sings at dusk and dawn, she could surely rule the world if she really wanted. But she’s here, with them, and she is content. She is a sea, calm and beautiful, until she is stirred and then she is a destroyer.  
Chloe is a lot like Jenna, and a lot not like Jenna. She is sharp and soft, kind and cruel, witty and serious, all wrapped up in a package so pretty no one can let their gaze pass right by her. She walks trough life as if it’s a bed of roses, but a real rose has thorns, and those thorns are sharp, unforgiving. She’s a garden full of un-killable plants, a garden being retaken by nature. Full of barely visible remnants of those who tried to tame it. All things return to the earth, and she grows from the cracks in the manmade cities. Nothing can keep her at bay, but she doesn’t yet know the full extent of the power she wields. She might be the Goddess of Spring, but she is also a Queen.  
Brooke might not seem like she could be Goddess and Ruler of the Underworld, but then again if you thought she couldn't be, you haven’t paid attention to your myths. Brooke is in love with everything that makes life worth living. From the grand things to the small day to day things. Things that are ordinary and extraordinary in the same breath. She knows death more intimately than anyone else ever will, well anyone else not in a position similar to hers. She isn’t the only entity to govern Death, but she is the only one who is, well, Brooke. She knows Death, which means she knows Life.  
Christine is still Unawakened, and isn’t showing signs of anything in particular. She’s a force to be reckoned with all the same. Endlessly enthusiastic, energetic, a girl with many faces and many voices, who sometimes talks so fast only Rich can keep up, a girl who sometimes sleeps straight trough the day. On the stage, spotlight trained on her, it’s like she shines. Lights up the room, enchants and ensnares the audience with her performance. There are rumors going trough the school that she’s a Muse, because it would certainly explain a lot of things, but she’s so much more. She is someone who seems like she can’t be contained in her own skin, like she’s so much grander than a human could ever hope to be.  
Sometimes she reminds Jeremy of Michael. Maybe that’s why she’s wormed her way so close to his heart. They’re both so…magnificent.  
Jeremy figures that of the eight of them, he’s the most ordinary. The least extraordinary. 

His friends would disagree.

Thursday, the same. Sweat. Tears. Fire. Burning burning burning. He sits up, rubs a hand over his face and trough his hair, untangles himself form the sheets. Has a shower, steps past the mirror, ignore everything. Puts on his pac man shirt again. The day passes in a blur, his dream-filled nights not giving him the rest he needs. He is tired and sluggish, and he feels his body moving trough time at a snails pace. when the bell rings for lunch all he wishes is for the day to end. He’s not entirely sure how he makes it to the cafeteria, but next thing he knows he’s collapsing into the chair next to Michael. He lays his head briefly on Michaels shoulder, forgetting for just a moment that he really shouldn’t. Once the burning reaches the level of pain that means he’s gonna start showing the side effects, which is much sooner than he’d like, he lets his head slide onto the table. He groans.  
‘’What’s up with him?’’ he hears Jake ask.  
‘’Been sleeping bad, I think.’’ Michael answers for him. Jeremy makes an annoyed but affirmative grunting murmuring sound, before covering his head with both arms. He really isn’t hungry. He’d rather just nap. And isn’t that a lovely thought. A nice nap, no dreams, only darkness. Only rest. He feels his own breathing slowing down, becoming deeper. Feels his lungs fill and empty steadily, listens to his own rhythmic heartbeat. There’s a gentle golden light streaming in from his left, the warmth washes over him, and then he’s gone. Floating in nothingness, peacefully quiet. It stretches on for an eternity. Then something changes. He didn’t think a void could fall out from beneath him, but it’s suddenly gone, and he’s falling, and he’s burning. There are no clouds, no endless horizon, no glaring sun. No whisper of feathers or smell of fire. No smoke in his lungs. But there is a burning sensation on his shoulder. The table beneath him comes back, he feels the hard uncomfortable surface, slightly warmed from his own body heat. His back is a little stiff, but nothing he can’t handle. He feels the world around him, but his head is still stuck in that dreamscape. The burning on his shoulder grows more intense. He twitches a few times in his sleep. Feels himself murmur nonsensical words. He hears his friends talking around him. It burns. Suddenly his whole body twitches once, violently, and he jolts upright, one leg kicking against the ground and sending his chair scraping backwards a few inches. The conversations at their table end abruptly, but thankfully the loud chatter in the rest of the cafeteria covers the sound well enough. No one else notices. He sits there for a second, taking quick shallow breaths, feels his heart hammering against his ribcage. Staring at nothing. A hand makes it’s way into his line of sight, and he focuses on it with newfound concentration, follows the red sleeve back to the owner to his left and there’s Michael. He looks worried. Jeremys shoulder erupts into pins and needles. The feeling jerks him back into his own head.  
‘’Sorry.’’ he says, glancing at the table where he’d rested his head only moments before, he pulls his chair back in, rubs his hands over his face and trough his hair.  
‘’Are you okay?’’ Christine asks from across the table. She looks worried too. They all look worried actually. Brooke looks more sad than worried, but he doesn’t dwell on her for long.  
‘’Yeah yeah, I just…need a good nights sleep I guess.’’ he says, and it’s not a lie but it’s not the full truth. He does feel a little better though, after the nap. At least enough to not act like a zombie for the rest of the school day. 

Friday. Fire. Burning. Falling. He wakes up screaming, heart racing, worse off than ever before. There are dark circles under his eyes, more prominent than ever. He doesn’t remember getting to school, doesn’t remember what was talked about in class.  
Michael locks eyes with Christine across the hallway, they stride towards each other, matching step for step until they meet right in the middle, opening their mouths with the same look in their eyes,  
‘’There’s something up with Jeremy.’’ they say in tandem, and then they look at each other for a second. And then they laugh.  
‘’But for real, we have to find a way to help him.’’ Michael says, face falling serious. Christine matches his expression.  
‘’But what? He’s acting like nothing’s wrong.’’ she says, exasperated.  
‘’Talk to him? We’re his friends, that’s what friends do, right?’’ he shrugs, they start walking together to the cafeteria.  
‘’I guess,’’ she says, giving a shrug of her own,  
‘’But the real question is, will he listen?’’ she finishes. The cafeteria doors are coming closer, and that’s when they spot him. Jeremy is standing next to the doors, or more like slouching against the wall next to the cafeteria doors. Michaela and Christine sigh in tandem. He leaves her side to approach Jeremy.  
‘’Jere-bear?’’ he asks gently, reaching out and touching his elbow. Jeremy arms are wrapped around his torso, head hanging down, as if he’s cold or crying or…sleeping? When Michaels hand makes contact with Jeremys elbow, he startles. Head snapping up and whipping around as if looking for something. His eyes settle on Michael and Michael hurts. He looks so tired.  
‘’Come on, lunchtime dude. Maybe you can power nap again?’’ he suggests, smiling a little. Jeremy smiles back, a spark of life igniting his eyes, and wait…no he definitely did not imagine that. That was no metaphorical spark, that was a real life actual orange glowing spark in Jeremys eyes. Michael stares for a second. Torn between believing it was real or imaginary. He lets it go, because Jeremy is moving towards the cafeteria doors.

Their first class after lunch is Sociology, and Brooke snags the back left table for them to share. She’s quickly joined by Christine, Jeremy, and Michael. Their teacher is an old lady who prefers to leave them to discussing, meaning not much gets done during classes. Jeremy doesn’t mind all that much, he zones out for most of the first 20 minutes as she explains…something about feral children? What the fuck? Then she tells them to read trough the questions on the sheet and discuss them in their groups. ‘’This class always feels surreal.’’ Michael says, and he’s not wrong. It’s one of the smaller classrooms, located on the second floor of the school, in the corner of a hallway, right next to the fire exit. The lights haven’t been fixed since last spring. They're not flickering or anything, but they’re very dim. And it’s warm. So warm.  
‘’I know what you mean.’’ Christine says. Jeremy goes back to zoning out. Not on purpose, but because he just can’t focus on anything. He’d tried to nap at lunch again, but hadn’t been able to fall asleep. He didn’t eat anything either, and he’s regretting that now. It feels like he’s running on fumes. His head is foggy. Michael turns to him, shares a look with Christine, and goes to say something.A shrill ringing cuts trough the air.  
All conversation is abruptly interrupted by the shrill ringing of the fire alarm. Michaels head snaps to the right, eyes staring trough the wall in the direction of something they can’t see.  
‘’There’s a fire in the gym.’’ he says.  
‘’Which class are Rich and Jake in right now?’’ Christine asks, already fearing she knows the answer.  
‘’P.E.’’ Brooke answers, almost too quiet to hear. They all stand up as one, the others in the class already filing out trough the door and to the staircase. Jeremy hasn’t felt this awake since Sunday. Everybody’s making their way downstairs, and they get caught up in the flow of the other students, but Jeremy and Michael stick close together, and weave between the throngs of bodies. They make it out first, and start heading around the building to the entrance, Brooke is only a few steps behind them. Christine has fallen behind, but Jenna and Chloe find her soon enough, and together the three girls fight their way to the gym entrance. A few meters in front of the door stands a small group of students in gym clothes. Jake is unconscious on the ground, clothes lightly singed. The others around him look fine. The teacher is nowhere to be seen.  
‘’Rich is still inside!’’ Brooke yells from right behind them, seeing the outline of his scarred soul lying slumped on the floor inside the building. Michael hands Jeremy his headset, then tugs off his hoodie and flings that at Jeremy too. Like he’s preparing to jump into a body of water. He’s wearing a white t-shirt with the mouth and eyes of no-face on. He turns and makes eye contact with Jeremy, who has to stop himself from squinting. It feels like he’s staring at the sun.  
‘’I’m gonna get him out.’’ he says, and then he runs for the small set of stairs leading into the building. He takes them two at a time, he opens the door, it glows from inside and he’s hit with a wave of warmth. Not that he really notices. Unlike Rich and his partial fire resistance, Michael is 100% resistant. Perks of technically being a giant ball of burning gas he assumes. Jeremy watches him disappear into the flaming vortex helplessly, then the door falls shut behind him. He turns to Brooke.  
‘’It’s gonna be fine.’’ she says, eyes on the building. She doesn’t even notice when the others join them, Christine and Jenna getting on the ground next to Jake. Chloe taking her place next to Brooke. Jeremy feels a little bad for not worrying too much about Jake, but then again, two of his other friends are inside the burning building, so hey. Priorities.  
‘’He’s just unconscious.’’ Brooke whispers, and no one is sure if she’s talking about Rich or Jake, or both. If she’s trying to reassure her friends or herself, or both. 

It feels like an eternity before the teacher shows up again. He’s also lightly singed, and he’s got one of the witches from the nurses office hot on his heels. Jeremy still hasn’t moved, arms full of Michaels things, Christine next to him. In reality it’s only been a minute. Brookes eyes are also trained on the gym, eyes tracking something he can’t see.  
‘’Everybody stand back!’’ he yells, as the witch rushes forward, raising her hands and letting the power build up in between her arms. Something in Jeremy recognizes the aura of the shellwork, and a different part of him, a new and small thing, quivering in his ribcage and recoiling at the magic, makes him worried. His eyes slips from the building to the witch, her name is Grace. He knows her. The rushing in his ears masks any other sound than the fore he can faintly hear from inside, the fire slowly eating trough the roof, but he recognizes the spell all the same. He’d found it in a chapter about magical fire. Because Michael was made of the stuff, and he needed to know everything about it, so he could understand and help Michael to the best of his ability. Like the best friend he was supposed to be. He knows this spell intimately. It had been listed on a page clearly marked ‘DANGERS’ in big bold letters. It’s an extinguishing spell. He drops what he has in his arms, but he’s not quick enough. Before the hoodie even hits the ground the witch has let loose a wave of lilac magic. It washes over the building in one fluent motion, and the fire doesn’t stand a fighting chance. Jeremy makes a strangled noise, setting down his foot in the first step towards her that he didn’t get to make. Brooke breathes in sharply form somewhere behind him, and he’s barely registered the sound before he’s hurdling trough the door. He doesn’t hear the others shouting, doesn’t hear the teacher or the witch, doesn’t hear them following. Inside it’s still warm, almost unbearably so, but he hardly notices. He sees Rich first, and he’s slumped on the floor but he’s clearly breathing and so his eyes keep searching. He doesn’t like what he finds.

‘’Michael!’’ Jeremy screams, heart wrenching and so desperate. He runs, and falls to his knees next to Michaels prone form, not too far away from Rich. He doesn’t even give it a thought as he checks his pulse, checks if he’s breathing, every time they make contact he burns, but he makes no noise. Does not pull away. Michael is so cold, not even just cold for him, but cold as in freezing. He feels it even trough the burning sensation. There is no fire roaring in him anymore, he’s just a husk of what he’s supposed to be. Jeremy panics, and does the only thing he can think of. CPR. He puts both hands on Michaels bare chest and he ignores the burning, ignores the pain, it is nothing compared to the ugly screaming chasm opening in his chest. He struggles against the tears, trying not to let any slip past his lashes. His fingertips are blackening. He leans down, and breathes into Michaels mouth. Nothing happens. He goes back to chest compressions. The black is spreading, inching up his fingers until it’s clawing its way up his hands. He leans down to breathe once more, his lips sear as he places them on Michaels. His mouth feels so dry but he has to keep going. The black has reached past his wrists, and his fingers are cracking, glowing orange like the burnt edge of a paper, like wood, like living fire. It hurts. It hurts so god damned much. He ignores it. The tears start falling. They fall like raindrops onto Michaels unmoving chest. He leans down again, feels the cracks form on his lips, feels the burning worsen. It feels like kissing barbed wire, red hot barbed wire. It’s nothing like he imagined, nothing like he dreamed it would be, and it’s not okay. He knows it’ll only get worse, but he’s willing to sacrifice anything for Michael. As he breathes in it feels like his lungs fill with smoke, and it scratches its way down his throat. He wants to cough but he doesn’t. Just keeps compressing Michaels chest. As he breathes in, preparing to blow more air into unresponsive lungs, he feels the cracks on his lips open wider, feels the embers roar at the passing air, smoke fills his mouth and his lungs and his head, he leans down and he breathes. Something hot and powerful erupts from his chest, he feels it swell in the back of his throat and as he leans bak he sees the fire licking away at the edges of Michaels lips, feels it clinging to the inside of his mouth and crawling its way up his face but he doesn’t care. It hurts so much and he thinks to himself, this is it, this is how I burn. But he keeps going, breathing fire into Michaels cold cold chest and praying to anyone, anything, whatever might be listening to him, prays for it to work. He can’t feel Michaels body temperature trough the pain anymore, if he thinks too much about his hands his head screams at him, so he tunes it out and keeps going, ignores the flakes of black that fall off, revealing glowing orange patches of skin beneath. He’s crumbling, and faster than he’d like, but he just needs to save him, he just needs to save Michael. He breathes in deep, something roars in his ears in his head behind his eyes, he leans down, breathes out, feels something leave him, and feels something underneath his hands wake up.

Michael is falling. Or floating? He’s not sure. It’s a black void all around him, and he can’t really feel gravity anymore, but he might be falling anyway? It’s a weird feeling.  
‘’Hi Michael.’’ someone says from…everywhere.  
‘’Hello?’’ he asks the nothingness, and the next time he sweeps his gaze around him his eyes land on Brooke. Her smile is gentle, her eyes sad, and she looks tired. He feels cold.  
‘’Am I dead?’’ he asks her, and it should be obvious. She’s here. That should be sign enough, but he sort of expected something else from the afterlife. He doesn’t know what, but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t this endless nothingness. He’s so cold.  
‘’No, you’re not dead.’’ she pauses, gaze a million miles away before it refocuses on him.  
‘’Not yet.’’ she finishes. He shivers. He’s not used to being cold.  
‘’What do you mean yet? Don’t you deal only with souls that’ve already passed?’’ he questions her, wrapping his arms around himself, drawing his legs closer to his chest.  
‘’You’re sort of…in between, at the moment.’’ she says, her eyes softening once more as she takes in his curled up form. It’s easy to forget how young he really is, with powers as old as the universe beneath his skin.  
‘’Then why are you here?’’ it’s not that he isn’t happy to see a familiar face in…limbo? It’s just that she’s not the most reassuring face to see. No offense to Brooke, she’s lovely, but she’s also…well…Goddess of the Underworld. Shepard of Souls. Last thing you see before you’re gone etc.  
‘’I made a promise.’’ she answers simply. He raises an eyebrow.  
‘’To who?’’ there’s a part of him that thinks he already knows. He knows who. There’s only one.  
‘’Who else?’’ Brooke asks, and makes a sweeping gesture. The void parts like curtains, revealing a window into a different world. His world. Where his Jeremy is leaning over his dead body, crying, breaking, doing everything in his power to bring Michael back. In the background he can see shapes of other people, but he can’t make out any faces. He feels tears gather in his own eyes.  
‘’What’s happening to him?’’ Michaels eyes roam over Jeremys blackening arms, his orange glowing hands, his cracking face, the tongues of flame rising from his mouth on every breath. It looks like he’s moving in slow motion. He’d be beautiful, if it wasn’t so obviously painful.  
‘’He’s burning.’’ Brooke says.  
‘’How?’’ Michaels voice is so small, so scared.  
‘’It’s what he was always meant to do, his destiny.’’ Brooke answers, her voice is going shapeless, echoing endlessly across the space.  
‘’What the fuck kind of destiny is burning alive for trying to save your friend!?’’ Michael yells, it does not echo, but it’s deafening. Roaring.  
‘’The destiny of Icarus has always been to burn.’’ Brooke looks him in the eyes as she says this, and Michael feels something in his chest loosen and shatter at the same time. He stops short, fights for breath.  
‘’…Icarus?’’ he whispers, almost scared, almost hopeful, almost helpless, almost happy. He doesn’t know anymore.  
‘’Yes.’’ it’s quiet between them, Michael thinking, staring as Jeremy takes a deep breath, his lips flaking, revealing the glowing orange embers beneath his skin. For a second he glows, radiant, and then he leans down and Michael feels something in his chest roar back to life.  
‘’There, go back to him.’’ Brooke says, with a small smile, he can’t tell if it’s sad or happy. He feels something in his chest pull, warmth spreading throughout. And then the black fades into…more black. He can feel his chest rise and fall, feels his heart beat, he opens his eyes.  
‘’Michael.’’ Jeremy breathes out from above him, smoke rising from his mouth, his eyes are glowing. He looks tired, Michael can’t help but think. Then Jeremy falls. He lands on top of Michael, which means he just keeps burning. Michael panics.

Saturday…they don’t like to think about Saturday, Saturday is spent in the hospital. Jake, Rich, and Michael were kept overnight, just for observation. They were fine, physically, even though Michael was dead at one point. Like actually gone-from-this-world-dead. Brooke has a few choice words about that particular statement, but she keeps them to herself. A doctor has the audacity to call him lucky. Lucky he had a friend like Jeremy. Michael wants to punch him in the face. He thinks the doctor might have noticed, because he hans’t seen him since. They’re all crammed into Jeremys hospital room, watching him breathe trough the oxygen mask. Listening to the steady beeping of his heart rate monitor. Michel is sitting on the right side of the bed, closest to Jeremys head. Christine sits next to him, and Jake next to her. Rich is leaning over the small metal bar at the foot of the bed, looking exhausted. On the other side Brooke has claimed the space opposite Michael, Chloe glued to her side, and Jenna keeping a hand on Jeremys covered leg, as if to reassure herself he won’t disappear. Michael wants to hold his hand. Michael wants to cling to Jeremy as if he’s a life line, as if he’s gonna fly away if he doesn’t hold on. But he can’t. Jeremy might…burn, if he does. He’s still not completely healed from the ordeal, a few hairline cracks still glowing faintly around his mouth, snaking up his arms. Surrounded by slowly receding charred skin. The others keep giving him sympathetic looks, but he can’t bring himself to make eye contact with them. Instead he lets his thoughts wander wherever they please, and of course they all turn to Jeremy. His Jeremy. His Icarus. He’s thrilled and terrified in equal measures.

Mr Heere comes back to the hospital Saturday afternoon, urging them all to go home and rest. They all protest this, of course.  
‘’I’ll call Michael if anything happens, and he’ll let you all know, right son?’’ Mr Heere glances at Michael for confirmation, and Michael nods without looking at anyone. Christine looks like she wants to say something, decides against it, and hugs I'm tight instead. She gets up, gesturing for the others to follow her, and soon only Michael and Mr Heere are left in the room. He sits down in the char next to Michael, where Christine had been.  
‘’I spoke to the doctors, and he’s going to be fine. He’s just recuperating, whatever happened took it’s toll on him.’’ he says, and Michaels mind catches onto part of that sentence, clings to it.  
‘’They didn’t tell you what happened?’’ Michael asks, eyes following the fluttering of Jeremys lashes.  
‘’They say they don’t really know. Only that he used most of his energy from his magical core for something, and now he needs to sleep it off.’’ Michael wants to laugh at that. Understatement of the century.  
‘’He saved my life.’’ he says instead. Admitting it out loud for the first time. Because it’s easier than breaking down in tears all over again.  
‘’He what?’’ Mr Heere asks, almost breathlessly, almost unbelievably. Michael turns his head, looks him in the eyes.  
‘’Rich set a fire, by accident of course, but the whole gym sort of went up in flames. Everyone got out fine, except Rich. And I’m kind of, y’know, fireproof? So I went in after him. I almost reached him too. If I was faster-‘’ he cuts himself off, takes a deep breath, closes his eyes. Lets the air out of his lungs, deflates a bit, opens his eyes again.  
‘’One of the witches from the nurses office cast an extinguishing spell. It’s like, super bad news for me. Jeremy knew that, I guess, cus from what Christine said he tried to stop her? And then when he couldn’t he immediately sprinted in after me.’’ Michael laughs with no humor, pauses, looks at Jeremy again.  
‘’He gave me CPR and reignited my magical core with his own.’’ he turns back to Mr Heere,  
‘’He saved my life.’’ he finishes, simply and with no fanfare. Even though it deserves all the fanfare in the world, Michael can’t help but think. It’s a very simple and very complicated statement. Mr Heere looks like he’s at a loss for words. Michael doesn’t blame him. Instead he gets up, picks up his hoodie and headphones, and leaves. When he gets into the seat of his car, he breaks down. He screams and screams and screams, punches the steering wheel and yells every curse word he knows,a nd some he makes up o the spot. Yells and rages until his voice is hoarse, until he’s chocking on small sobs instead, tears clouding his vision. He takes off his glasses, wipes his face. Curses himself again.

Sunday starts off uneventful. The night is long and mostly devoid of sleep. That morning Michael eats his cereal very slowly, and his moms are looking at him with concern. Equal parts concern for him and for Jeremy. Then his phone rings. There are really only three people in his life that call him, everyone else knows he’s more likely to answer texts. But two of those people are sitting in front of him, and the third is still in a coma (maybe). He jolts, fumbling his phone out of his pocket and answering it as soon as he sees the familiar name.  
‘’He’s awake.’’ Mr Heeres voice says trough the phone, no preamble, no greeting, just the best news of Michaels entire life. He breathes in.  
‘’He’s asking about you, do you have time to come over. Maybe bring the others?’’ Mr Heere asks. Michael breathes out slowly before answering.  
‘’Yeah. I’ll be there in a sec.’’ he says, and as soon as the words are out of his mouth Mr Heere hangs up and his moms decent on him. Well, they don’t actually move or say anything, but he can feel it in their looks, can see it on their faces. He smiles, shakily, but happier than they’ve seen him all weekend.  
‘’He’s awake.’’ he repeats Mr Heeres words, and they feel like magic, like a spell, because suddenly his moms are moving and ushering him out the door and telling him to wish Jeremy the best from them. He hugs them both, tight.  
‘’I love you.’’ he tells them, because he can, then he’s off towards his car. He situates himself behind the wheel before he remembers something, pulls out his phone and sending a mass text.  
He’s awake.  
Across the town six phones ping and buzz and otherwise makes themselves known. 

Michael makes it there first, but he sits in his car for a couple of minutes, not really sure why. There’s an odd mix of anxiety and butterflies in his stomach, and he can’t make himself move. What if Jeremy hates hm now? He almost got him killed. He hurts Jeremy every time he touches him, and he didn’t even know. Something catches his eyes and Christine waves at him from the entrance. He gets out. Her smile is radiant, and he can’t help but match her. They wait a few more minutes, and soon enough they’re all gathered. Christine doesn’t question why Michael decided to wait with them, when it’s clear he’s been wanting to head inside this entire time. She lets it go, and leads the small group into the hospital. The way to Jeremys room isn’t complicated, and they retrace their steps with ease, soon enough finding themselves outside the door. Michael knocks. Mr Heere opens the door, he’s kind of blocking the view in, but he turns his head and says,  
‘’Your friends are here, I’ll give you guys some space.’’ he smiles warmly, but he looks a little tired.  
‘’Thanks dad.’’ a small voice answers from inside, from the direction of the bed, and Michaels heart soars. His voice is a little hoarse, a little weak, but it’s so full of life Michael could cry. They let Mr Heere pass, and then he can see him. Christine rushes in past him, bounding up to Jeremys bed, mouth already going a mile a minute. Her eyes are shining, both with joy and unshed tears. Brooke passes him next, pulling Chloe along by their intertwined hands, Jenna not too far behind. Rich and Jake pass him, each giving him a glance, but letting him be all the same. They’re all talking over each other, and Jermey is smiling and nodding and interjecting a few words here and there. Michael looks down at the doorstep, takes a deep breath and crosses. Nothing happens. He doesn’t know why he thinks anything would happen. He breathes out, looks up. Locks eyes with Jeremy. Michael feels like he’s frozen on the spot. Those eyes are so so blue and so so gentle. So full of love. Something in Michael hurts, twists and throbs and he feels like he can’t breathe. Christine notices, glancing between the two boys and giving one loud sharp cough to get everyones attention. Michael and Jeremy are still having a staring contest.  
‘’I don’t know about you guys, but I skipped breakfast. Wanna grab some food real quick?’’ she suggests, glancing pointedly at the two, who don’t notice anything. Caught up in each other as they are.  
‘’Uuuuuuh, yeah!’’ Brooke exclaims, already pulling Chloe back out of the room. Chloe looks confused until she looks at Michael, at which point she just says,  
‘’Come on.’’ and gestures for everyone else to follow. They do, Rich nudging Michael with his elbow as he walks out, giving him a wink. Michael swallows. Wait for the door to close behind them. Jeremy looks so small in that hospital bed. He’s pale, paler than usual, there are dark circles under his eyes, but worst of all there’s a think and silvery spider web of scars marking both of his upper arms. It makes something in Michaels stomach turn painfully. He fights the feeling back. Musters up the realest smile he can. Jeremy smiles nervously back. Michael takes a step forward, then another, and another, and then he’s next to Jeremy, letting himself collapse into the chair he had spent most of his Saturday in.  
‘’Why didn’t you tell me?’’ he asks, and there’s no accusation in his voice, just resigned sadness. Just acceptance. Jeremy glances away.  
‘’I didn’t want to scare you.’’ he says, voice smaller than ever. His hands are tangled in the white bedsheets.  
‘’Scare me!?’’ Michael asks incredulously, verging on hysterical. Jeremy winces slightly and he regrets it immediately. Jeremy looks resigned as he answers,  
‘’You wanted me to be the moon. The moon doesn’t love the sun as desperately as I love you.’’ he says it like it’s nothing. Like it’s a simple fact of the universe. Like common knowledge. Grass is green. The sky is blue. Jeremy loves Michael. Desperately. Every thought Michael has grinds to a halt. On some level he knew. He knew, because that’s how their positions work, but there’s knowing something in your own head, and then there’s having it confirmed. Maybe it is a simple fact of the universe.  
‘’…you love me?’’ is all he can muster to say, dumbfounded. He wants to slap himself, but keeps his eyes on Jeremys reddening face. A reddening face with a star chart of freckles that’s turning back towards him. Looking directly at him.  
‘’Of course I do.’’ Jeremy says, staring him in the eyes, with a level of confidence Michael has almost never seen him display.  
‘’How long?’’ he asks, because he has to know. He needs to know.  
‘’A couple of months maybe.’’ Jeremy mumbles, running a hand trough his hair, glancing away then back at Michael, trying to decipher everything.  
‘’Why didn’t you tell me?’’ Michael asks next, because apparently this has devolved into some sort of interrogation, and on some level Michael feels bad, but on another more pressing level, he needs to know.  
‘’Why would I? You don’t want me like that.’’ he looks away from Michael again, looks down at his hands as they pick at the white sheet. He sounds sad, and Michael needs to fix that, right now.  
‘’Says who?’’ he asks. Jeremy stills, his hands stopping and his shoulders tensing slightly. Michael knows his voice was more forceful than it has been throughout this conversation, but he needs to get his point across. Jeremy glances up at him.  
‘’…What?’’ he finally asks, eyebrows knitted in confusion.  
‘’Who says I don’t love you? I sure as hell didn’t.’’ Michaels voice is still a little forceful, but he really can’t help it. He’s leaning forwards in his seat now, towards Jeremy.  
‘’But…you said you were happy I was the moon. That’s all you’ve ever said!’’ Jeremy exclaims, dropping the sheet in his hands to gesture for emphasis.  
‘’I didn’t think…I didn’t dare hope this was an option. It’s been forever since an Icarus showed up, and the next best thing? The moon. I just wanted you to be the one closest to me. I love you.’’ Michaels hands are resting on the covers, inching closer to Jeremy as he leans even further forward. He’s almost at the edge of his seat now.  
‘’…You do?’’ Jermey says, letting his arms fall back to his sides, staring at Michael with wonder and hope and so much unrestrained love.  
‘’Of course I do.’’ Michael says with a smirk, parroting Jermeys own words back at him. Jeremy can’t help the laugh that escapes him, staring into Michaels eyes. Eyes full of fondness, happiness, joy…love. He can’t help it as the tears spring forth. Can’t help it when his laughter dissolves into choked off sobs. Michael looks panicked for a second, then he reaches out without thinking. It’s a knee-jerk reaction born from years and years of mutual comforting. A small flash of alarm races trough Jeremys head but it’s short lived, there one instant gone the next. Then Michaels arms are wrapped around him, and he hasn’t felt as safe as this in what feels like forever. Michaels arms are warm like a summer day. Comforting. He buries his head in Michaels shoulder, muffling his crying in the soft hoodie. It’s a bit of an awkward angle, what with Jeremy sitting in the hospital bed and Michael leaning so far out of the chair. Jeremy pulls back, shuffling over and patting the space next to him before Michael has a chance to look disappointed at his absence. Instead Michael smiles, toes off his shoes and climbs in. Jeremy situates himself in-between Michaels outstretched legs, leaning his side against Michaels chest, resting his head on his shoulder. He snakes his arms around Michaels torso, looks up at him trough his lashes, suddenly drowsy where before he’d felt wide awake.  
‘’Go to sleep.’’ Michael says gently, recognizing the look on Jeremys face. Jeremy smiles, nuzzles Michaels neck and and sighs in content. Michael hesitates for only a second, before leaning down and planting a soft kiss on Jeremys forehead. Jeremy hums, and then his breathing evens out. Michael settles his arms around Jeremy leaning his head on Jeremys head. Starts humming. Soon enough he’s asleep too, the two previous nights of uneasy sleep catching up to him. That’s how the others find them ten minutes later, cuddled up in a way too small bed, clinging to each other and looking content. Rich pumps his fist and tries desperately to stay silet so as not to wake them, Jake is holding back laughter at his actions. Brooke smiles, giggling as Christine and Chloe take pictures of them from every conceivable angle, Jenna looking on in exasperation and shaking her head fondly at everything her ridiculous friends are doing. Michael shifts in his sleep, causing Jeremy to snuffle and further bury his head into Michael shoulder, the gang freezes in place until they’ve settled down again, heaving a collective, and very quiet, sigh of relief. Christine nods towards the door, and they make their way out, giggling and pushing each other. Leaving the two love struck idiots to some well earned rest.

**Author's Note:**

> can u guess who the moon really is?? >;3c
> 
> i set up a tumblr @actual-cryptid-leshy if anyone feels like talking to me abt writing??  
> hope u guys enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed coming up with it!!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [To be the Moon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12136188) by [MightyKell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MightyKell/pseuds/MightyKell)




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